For Each
by Square Flea
Summary: [post FPB, AU] What if the boys had never escaped from prison? What if the YED came looking for a very conveniently imprisoned Sam?
1. Was it the narrow way that I wended?

For Each

-

-

Square Flea

-

-

Author's Note: For the second round of The SFTCOL(AR)S Summer Fic Exchange, I got tyranusfan, who suggested a fic post-FPB, but the boys never get out of prison. I hope he likes it.

So, this is going AU after FPB; the boys never escaped from prison. They've both been sentenced and sent to different prisons. This takes place around the time of AHBL.

Warnings: Dark material (eventually). Gratuitous use of creative license.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Or Sam and Dean. I don't even really own the prompt.

---

---

Chapter one:

Was it the narrow way that I wended?

---

---

---

"What'd he get?"

Dean Winchester refused to look up from the table. He'd had enough of this, of the visits, of the pitying looks.

"Life," that lawyer chick, Mara Something, replied from across the table, and he could hear the rustle of her papers being moved around, "He got life. No parole."

_Oh, Sammy…_

"But Dean—"

"Where is he?" he asked, still not looking up from that little burr in the wood he'd noticed during Mara's first visit, when Sam was sitting across from him instead of this pretty blonde thing.

She sighed, "Not here. Not after that stupid stunt you pulled. Dean, we need to talk about this. Stop avoiding it."

_Sam, I'm sorry._

"They're gonna kill me," he said, "They're gonna stick a needle in my arm and watch me _die_. And Sam is—" he broke off, then lifted his head to glare at her, "Please, tell me what we need to _talk_ about."

"We can appeal," she pleaded, "We can keep appealing. This isn't happening any time soon, Dean. There's hope."

Hope. He was spending every day in a cramped little cell in the middle of Missouri, waiting to be put down like a dog, and Sam was probably miles away, maybe still in Wisconsin, maybe in freakin' China. There wasn't going to be any spectacular rescue, not for either of them. They were going to spend the rest of their lives behind solid metal bars until they died.

The demon had won.

There was nothing else to talk about.

---

It was two days before Dean saw Mara again, and the moment he did, he knew something was wrong. She had this sympathetic, half-frightened look on her face when he entered the small interrogation room, and she was tapping the table nervously with her pen. He'd seen many emotions on his woman, not all of them good, or pleasant; but fear? That was a first. Something was happening.

Hendrickson was with her, standing behind her chair, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

"What'd I do?" he asked as he sat across from her, glancing at the FBI agent, "'Cause it's kinda hard to commit felonies in a cell."

"Hard, not impossible," Hendrickson spat back. Mara glared at him, then turned back to Dean.

"I need you to tell me," she said to him, "Have you been in contact at all with Sam?"

At the mention of his brother, Dean's whole body snapped rigid, chest tightening.

"What happened?" he demanded, "Is he hurt?"

"Dean, just tell me," she pleaded, "Have you heard from him? Anything about him?"

"No," Dean replied, "You know I haven't. What the hell happened?"

"There was an...incident at the prison Sam was being held at," she answered, quietly.

"An 'incident'?" Hendrickson scoffed, "A whole fucking prison was murdered last night , and it's 'an incident'."

"Murdered?"

The agent glared at Dean, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Murdered," he confirmed, "And guess who's missing."

---

Light. It was the first thing Sam saw when he came to; above him, around him, blinding.

He was on his back. There was a dull pounding in the back of his head, and when he moved his fingers, he felt rocks and dirt. He was outside. He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to not being in a small dark place (if, in fact, he'd actually been in one--these days, he never knew).

There were buildings around him; old buildings that looked like they hadn't seen intelligent life in decades, their windows mostly knocked out, walls made of wood that seemed to be crumbling away. The ground he was lying on was dirt--dry and dusty--and as he looked closer at it, he thought he could see imprints of horseshoes. He was strongly reminded of a time, years ago, when his father would go on hunts that lasted for days and were far too dangerous for his two little boys, when the television would be left on late enough to play those old western movies. The brothers would curl up on the couch--Sam pretending to sleep, Dean pretending he wasn't anxiously waiting for their father to walk through the door and tell them to get their asses to bed.

Dean.

His brother was locked in a cell somewhere, waiting to be killed. Sam wasn't.

All he had to do was figure out where he was, and where Dean was, and how to break him out of a high-security prison. Death row, no less.

But Sam recognized an opportunity when he saw one. He wouldn't let this one go. He _couldn't_ let it go. He couldn't let Dean go.

He stood, legs just a little shaky, and looked around.

First, he had to move. Then he could plan.

---

---

---

TBC


	2. Snares and pits, was it mine to shun?

For Each

Square Flea

-

-

-

A/N: There's a lot of dialogue borrowed from All Hell Breaks Loose, Part One. It's all for a reason, trust me. And you want to read it all, all the way to the end. Just…trust me.

Also, this is completely un-betaed, due to the fact that this was due, like, two weeks ago and I want to finish as quickly as possible, so any mistakes are mine.

Summary and Disclaimer in chapter one.

-

-

Chapter two:

Snares and pits, was it mine to shun?

-

-

-

"So we're soldiers in a demon war to bring on the _apocalypse_?"

"When you put it like that…"

Sam understood Jake's anger, his confusion. He really did. But there wasn't time. They had to get the hell out of this…_ghost town_, and fast. There was something about this place; something dark and sinister, waiting in the shadows, waiting for them to drop their guard.

Sam had a pretty good idea what that _something_ was.

"A-and we've been picked?" Jake asked suddenly, his eyes wide and just a little pleading.

"Yes," Sam answered. No sense sugarcoating it.

"Why us?"

"I don't know, okay?" Sam snapped, tired of the questioning. No time. "But look, I just know—"

"Sam," Ava sighed, and he turned to look at her, "I'm sorry, psychics and spoon-bending is one thing, but _demons_?"

"Look, I know it sounds crazy—"

"Doesn't just sound it," Jake interrupted, and Sam was suddenly sick of the whole thing; of the town, of these people. He just wanted to get the hell out of here and find his brother before the Demon came calling.

"I don't really care what you think, okay?" he yelled, and Jake turned away, "If we're all gathered here, then that means it's starting, and we've got—"

"The only thing I gotta do is stay away from whack-jobs, okay?" Jake cut him off again, "I've heard enough. I'm better off on my own," he turned to the rest of the group, "FYI: so are you."

He brushed past Sam and stormed away.

Ava turned to Sam.

"What do we do now?" she asked. Sam sighed.

"Now?" he echoed, "We find a way out of here before it finds us."

---

_Wanna know the truth? I got this brother, right? And he's always telling me how he's gonna watch out for me, how everything's gonna be okay, you know, kinda like I've been telling them._

…_I don't know if I believe it this time._

_I mean, the size of what's coming, it's bigger than anyone's ever seen._

---

"I'm gonna ask you _one more time_," Hendrickson growled as he leaned forward menacingly, palms flat on the table, "Where is he?"

"How the hell should I know?" Dean snapped, glaring up at his interrogator, "If you can't keep track of your prisoners, that's not my fault."

"You son of a—"

Hendrickson reached over and grabbed a handful of Dean's shirt, hauled him out of his chair, and cocked back a fist.

"Agent Hendrickson!" Mara barked, "You lay a hand on my client, you'll get a cell of your very own. I promise."

Hendrickson paused for a moment, as though he were considering the option, but let Dean go with a small push.

"They're all dead," the agent spat, "A whole fucking prison, dead for no reason. And not just prisoners. Guards, doctors, nurses, all with loved ones, families... _kids_. And they're all gone."

"And that's my fault how?" Dean asked, trying to shake the feeling of dread. Sam couldn't have done this. But Dean knew who could have.

"I think you know something," Hendrickson answered, "I know you didn't pull this off, you're too well guarded, and you've had no contact with anyone except Miss Daniels," he glanced over at her, "And I think she's learned her lesson."

"Agent Hendrickson—" Mara started.

"You know something about this that you're not telling me," Hendrickson continued, still staring into Dean's eyes, ignoring the woman, "You know something about your brother's disappearance."

"Oh, it's 'disappearance' now?" Dean snapped, "I thought my brother was this dangerous escaped convict." Hendrickson looked away. "I get it," Dean continued, "Anything to get me to spill, right? Well, this is me fucking spilling. You know more about Sam's disappearance than I do. Shit, you're even more likely to find him. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to taken back to my cell."

The two men stared each other down for a long moment.

"Take him back," Hendrickson called to the guard at the door, still glaring at Dean, "This isn't over. You know something, and I'm going to find out what."

---

"You're awfully quiet, Sam. You're not mad at me, are ya?"

He knew he was dreaming, he had to be, but it was too much like a vision for his comfort. Everything was sharp and clear; the scent of burning wood, the sound of crickets in the bushes, the shadows of trees swaying across the ground.

He could even feel the beginning of a headache as he glared a hole into the back of the Demon's head.

"I'm gonna tear you to shreds, I swear to--"

The Demon laughed, "When you wake up, tiger, you give it your best shot."

Sam kept glaring, and said nothing.

"What, no more scathing threats on my life? No...questions you want to ask? I know you've got one. You've been thinking about it since you woke up. Bordering on obsessive."

"What does Dean have to do with this?"

_It knows about Dean. It knows where he is._

"Nothing. In fact, you should probably quit worrying about him. I'd worry more about yourself."

"What? You're gonna kill me?" Sam asked.

The Demon rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying to _help_ you, that's why we're talking. You're the one I'm rooting for."

Sam frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

---

The room was covered in salt--Jake could still taste it--but it wasn't enough, not nearly.

There was something dark and dangerous about Sam, but one thing he wasn't was a liar. If he said there was something out there, there was something out there. And it was getting in, sooner or later, no matter how much salt they surrounded themselves with. They weren't going to win this.

But Jake swore he wasn't going to die for it.

---

"Sam! Wake up!"

Sam woke with a gasp. Jake loomed over him.

"Ava's missing."

---

Sam took off running toward Ava's terrified screams, fearing the worst. He burst into the cabin to find her crying over Andy's mutilated body.

It was as though a wild animal had broken in and attacked; Andy was barely recognizable.

And all Sam could think was, _It's starting. It's starting and we're not ready_.

"Sam!" she cried, glancing down at the body, "I just found him like this!"

"What happened?" he asked. There was something wrong here. He'd double- and triple-checked those salt lines. There was no way in hell anything could have gotten in.

"I don't know," Ava whimpered.

Something was horribly wrong.

"How'd that thing get in?" he demanded, searching the room. Finding nothing, he turned back to Ava, "Where were you?"

"I just went to get some water from the well," she explained tearfully, "I was only gone maybe, like, two minutes."

"You shouldn't have gone outside," he said, heading over to the window behind her. He froze. The line was broken. Two lines about the size of fingers had been made in the salt; the brake was only about an inch thick, but he knew it was enough.

Suspicion hit him like a punch to the stomach.

"Who did that?" he asked her.

"I don't know, maybe And--"

"Andy wouldn't do that," he cut her off, anger bubbling up in him, "Ava, that line wasn't broken when I left."

He glared at her. What the hell was going on?

"Ava--"

"What, you don't think that I--"

"I'll tell you what I think," he growled, "Five months. You're the only one with all that time unaccounted for."

"_Only one of you...crazy kids...is gonna make it out of here alive."_

"And that headache you got? Right when the demon got Lily."

"What are you trying to say?" Ava demanded.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing!"

They glared at each other until Sam could feel her give in. She'd been caught.

She laughed, "Had you going, though, didn't I? Yeah," she wiped at her eyes, "I've been here a long time. And not alone, either. People just keep showing up. Children. Like us. Batches of three or four at a time."

How could he not have known this? Five months. Her fiance was killed, and she disappeared for five months. Why hadn't he made the connections?

"You killed them? All of them?" Sam asked her.

She smirked.

"I'm the undefeated heavyweight champ."

Sam couldn't help it, "Oh, my God."

"Don't think God has much to do with this, Sam."

"How could you?"

She tilted her head at him.

"I had no choice," she said, "It's me or them. After a while, it was easy. Even kinda fun. I just stopped fighting it."

"Fighting what?"

"Who we _are_, Sam. If you'd just quit your hand-wringing and open yourself up, you have no idea what you can do. The learning curve is so i fast /i , it's crazy, the switches that just flip in your brain," she laughed, "I can't believe I started out just having dreams." Her look turned dark, "Do you know what I can do now?"

"Control demons."

She smiled, "Ah. You are quick on the draw."

Her face suddenly scrunched up in pain. The wind outside kicked up. The air in the cabin grew cold. The demon was coming.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but..."

He looked around wildly for it, knowing that he didn't stand a chance, but he had to _try_, dammit.

"...it's over."

_Dean, I'm sorry._

It came through the break in the salt line like a thin, cylindrical cloud. It hovered in the air for a moment, then disappeared.

There was a scream from somewhere behind her, and a body fell heavily onto the floor.

Jake was dead.

-

-

-

TBC


End file.
